Autumn's Here
by Tiny Q
Summary: Autumn is a time when the world begins to die. Leaves fall, left to lie dead on the ground. Is it any wonder that such a season would bring the pain of death back to the surface after so many years have past? D/G


Title: Autumn's Here

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: Well, I wrote this entire story in one sitting. This is an amazing feat for me because usually I will start a story and then let it sit for an age before I get around to finishing it. But this bunny just attacked me. I was listening to my new Hawksley Workman CD, which I finally bought after months of wanting it, and this song came on. I stopped what I was doing and just listened to it. There was just something about it and this idea for a story popped into my head. So, I sat down and began writing it and wouldn't let myself stop until I finished it. But yes, enough blather from me. I hope you enjoy this.

Disclaimer: This story is based on the song _Autumn's Here_ by Hawksely Workman. It is not mine. If I could come up with lyrics like that I would be going into song writing rather than animation.

**Autumn's Here  
**

--o--

I could see through the window that she was standing before, holding the curtains back, the trees that were moving with the wind. Sometimes I long to be with them, to live a simple life where all I need to do is grow in the sun and move with the wind, to allow something else to guide my destiny. But the world does not work like that, as I know all too well. I am the master of myself, though the world throws things at me that change my surroundings so that I will never be able to have things they way I want them exactly.

I had had to chop down several of those trees but months before. They had died, due to drought, and I could leave them standing there no longer, their dead masses sentinels on the property. Symbols of all that we wanted to forget. I had pilled the wood beside the gazebo, so that it would dry in time for the winter. The manor is always so cold during that season, and the more wood we have to light our fires the better.

It was a gloomy, blistery day, the kind that would make most people want to curl up with a good book in front of the fire and ignore the weather outside. I love days like these because they give me an excuse to do just such a thing. However, today was not a day that I could use that excuse.

No, today was the day that she would begin to cry.

_You can tell by the wind  
By fresh cut wood  
All stacked to dry  
That Autumn's here_

"Does the sun ever shine anymore?" she asked me, her voice hollow.

I sat there, staring at her, thinking that I should have moved to comfort her. That I should have gone over there to make it all better. But the truth was that there was no way that I possibly _could_ make it better. I could no more control the weather, make the summer sunny rather than rainy, than I could make the ghosts that haunt her go away. No matter how many times I assure her that she is not alone, it doesn't matter. She will still feel that way.

Sometimes I feel the loneliness as well. It's like a blanket that wraps itself around you and begins to smuggle you with its presence. There is no way for me to tear it away from her. She has to figure out a way to work her way out of it on her own. She has to discover that I really am here on her own.

_And it makes you sad  
About the crumby  
Summer we had_

"I hate when the trees move like that," she continued after a long pause, during which neither of us took our eyes off of the world beyond the window. "They make such a sound, an eerie sound, that makes me want to cover my ears and never hear it again."

"But it will always be there," I replied, finally rising from my seat at the table and walking over to her, standing just close enough to feel the heat of her body warm me. "If you choose to listen to it."

"And I can't help but listen to it," she said softly, her head lowering slightly.

Cautiously I raised my hand and placed it on her shoulder. She didn't move to acknowledge it, which is an improvement for she usually shrugs it off when she is like this. She does not like to be touched when she is feeling like this. I almost think that she enjoys the feeling of being utterly alone. I wonder if doing so makes when you realize that you aren't all the more sweet.

As we both watched, a raven gracefully landed on the wood pile, letting out its foreboding shriek as it looked around. I hate that sound. It's a sound that I will never forget. It's the sound that will always be, for me, the beginning of the end of all I thought I had known. I had seen a raven on the day the war ended. I saw a raven die.

_With Pine trees creaking  
The raven's screeching_

When ever I had stayed with my grandmother when I was younger, we went for long walks through the forest lining her property. It wasn't a forest too much unlike the one that lines the property we stand on now, yet there was always something about it that made me uneasy. It was a sinister place full of darkness and coldness from which you felt you would never escape.

There were many ravens in that forest, setting their great bodies on the boughs of trees. They would screech out their empty songs, leaving them to echo across the forest. When we would encounter one, my grandmother would often stop and point towards it, saying that if I ever saw one die, saw a raven die, then someone I knew, shortly, would die as well.

I never believed her. But then, I never did see one of the great birds die so I could not blame any death on such an occurrence. But it was a day unlike this one that I did see one die, saw it's blackness, shimmering in the sky, be marred by a green slash of light. It seemed to fall through the sky for an eternity before it hit the ground and lay motionless in a heap of forgotten intelligence.__

_Just like the story my grandma tells  
About when a bird  
Hits your window  
And someone you know  
Is about to die_

"I hate this time of year," she said quietly, her voice chocked up with the tears I knew were on the edge of her eyes. This is the only day that she will allow herself to cry. The only day that she will let herself succumb to the weakness she feels is hiding inside of her. She will cry about other things throughout the year, but today is the only day she will cry about what this day represents.

Stealing a breath I took another step forward, then another, until I was directly behind her. My arms went around her by instinct and I steeled myself for a fight. She does not like to be held in times like these. But to my utter surprise she leant back into me, her hands coming up to rest on my arms.

It wasn't until I felt a splash of water on my skin that I knew she was crying.

_Autumn's here  
Its__ OK if you want to cry_

"We need to be going," I finally said after what seemed like eons of holding her. All I wanted was to stay like that with her for the rest of my life, but I knew no such thing like that would be possible. The world does not work that way.

"I know," she replied, taking a step away from me, then another, making my body feel the cold that her absence brought. Her head dropped down once more, as if she did not want to see what was about to greet us outside. Did not want to see the inevitable. "I know," she repeated even more quietly.

I turned and watched as she took up the sweater I had brought her when I had come down from our room. She stared at it for a moment, feeling the softness of the brown material, before slipping it on over her head. She quickly did her hair up again, as if she did not want me to see her in such a state. I always have an urge to laugh at her when she does things like that. It's not as if I don't see her every morning, lying beside me, her face groggy from sleep, her hair a mess of curls about her head.

Today was not a day to laugh though.

_Find a sweater  
And you'll be better  
Until the kindling is tinder dry_

With our black cloaks on, and our scarves securely fastened around our necks, we quietly slipped out of the house. I glanced back at it as we made our way down the gravel path away from it. I always thought the Malfoy Manor looked like such a powerful place, a building of prestige and lineage. All it looks to me now is an empty building filled with sorrow and broken dreams. A museum of what once was but is no longer.

We never, ever, speak to each other when we make this trek on this day of each year. It's almost taboo to make a remark about the weather, or the flowers growing along the path. Taboo to make so much a cough. I hate the silence, yet at the same time the sound of our feet, walking firmly over the gravel, crunching solidly and soundly, is more comforting and settling than any amount of words ever could be.

The flowers along the path were dead, drying up despite the fact that there was no sun to do the drying. The grass, as well, was dying. It was no longer the lush green colour that it was months before. Even the trees seemed to be dying; their colourful leaves all falling to the ground, blowing about in the wind that blew around us.

_We can be quiet  
As we walk down_

I try not to think about the implications of our dying surroundings. I knew I was not about to die any time soon, and I sure as hell was not going to allow her to die either. But we were moving towards those that had not been as fortunate as us.

As we rounded a bend in the path, coming away from the trees and their falling leaves, our destination came into view.

I don't think I will ever come to terms with how many tombstones stand in this small clearing, how many seem to rise up, over the hill, to the building that rests on the top. I have been trying for many years, but every year, despite how, nearing this point in time, I can think I can handle it, I get here and all that I thought I could come to terms with simply leaves me.

There are hundreds of them. Hundreds upon hundreds, all standing in the ground, among the fallen leaves of the trees, grass quietly growing over the ground where mounds of dirt once rested. Where the ground had been disturbed to lay to rest those that had past during the duration of Voldemort's last reign of terror.

So many people lost their lives in those two years. The papers would list the names of all those who had died, allowing those who didn't know to discover that someone they loved had died. I remember being so disturbed when people in the Great Hall would discover a name they knew on the list. I remember their screams and their cries shook me straight to the soul. By the end though, by then end, no one gave much of a reaction. People were too numb.

Everyone lost someone.

_To see the graveyard  
Where they are now_

When the war finally ended, everyone who died had been buried here, even those that had already been buried. It was thought that if all those who were stolen were kept together they could take care of themselves in the after world. Unite with a common cause and keep their dead souls from harm. It was a poetic idea. Too poetic for my tastes.

A service had been held on the day that the final body had been buried. The body of the hero of the war. Everyone who was still alive, the few of us that there were, gathered about. They had brought the piano from within the ruins of the Ministry to rest in the building at the top of the hill. The open structure had been built to house and amplify the instrument.

As they lowered his body, Hannah Abbot, the last of her line, played, the sounds of our world's sorrow travelling through the air around us. We laid to rest those who had saved us to the sound of that instrument. We laid to rest those who had given everything they had, everything that they had held dear, to the sound of that instrument.

_I wonder how  
They brought their piano  
To haldane hill  
From old berlin_

It is never played anymore, even on this day. But some say that those who are no longer with us play it. That those who are buried's souls maintain the beautiful instrument. I think it's a load of crap, but there are some who believe it with all their hearts. No one takes care of the piano. No one has touched it since that day. It is another taboo I suppose.

"I keep forgetting how many there were," she said from beside me, her brown eyes wide as they traveled across the expanse before us. I only nodded my head in response. "How many names had been typed up in that damned paper."

She began walking forward. I knew exactly where she was heading, and followed slowly, allowing her to get there first. She always goes there. Always goes to say hello to those she had loved so dearly.

A gust of wind hits me from behind and I can't help but shiver. Winter will be early this year, bringing with it snow and cold bitter winds. The thought of all these stones, all these names, being covered in snow, buried out of sight, is an almost comforting thought. Buried and forgotten as if all the horror had never happened. But spring always comes, and the names and stones return.

We will never forget.

_Be hard to keep it  
Well in tune  
With winters like the one  
That is coming soon_

She was on her knees, like she is every time she comes here. On her knees before a series of stones, lined up neatly in a row, directly across from the most important one. She never brings flowers for them. Her mother never would have stood for the killing of something so beautiful for someone dead. She always told me that her mother would rather have the flowers continue living where they are then to have their lives cut short to be offered as gifts to those who are long gone. I tell her that the flowers have already been cut and will die anyway, but she never listens.

"I still can't believe their gone," she said slowly, staring at the nine stones. There were little sayings on each, each catered to the individual buried before the stone. I never cared much for what they said for I had never cared for any of the names that belonged to those that were burred. I had only ever cared for one member of that family, and she was crouching before them now, the tears flowing freely. "It feels like yesterday that I heard that they were all dead." She paused, a slight sniff being the only thing to fill the silence. "Yet that yesterday does seem like a very long time ago, doesn't it?"

"Yes," I replied, kneeling down beside her and gathering her into my arms. She clutched at my cloak and I could hear her begin to cry. This is the only time she ever really cries about them. The only time that she allows herself to cry. "Yes, it does."

_Autumn's here  
Its time to cry now_

Everyone lost someone, but I think she had the most to lose. Her entire family died, every single one of them, at one time. I suppose it would have been harder if they had died one by one, but the force of knowing they were all simply gone, all at once, took a lot out of her. So much out of her I thought that I would lose her as well. Nothing I did could help her, and I don't know how I could have been so self diluted that I even fathomed that I could help her. I couldn't fix her. I can't fix her. I can only be there for her when she needs to hold onto something real.

"When I was a little girl," she said suddenly, her voice ruff and slightly stuffy from her crying. "I use to think that fall was when all my dead relatives would come out to visit us in the Burrow."

"Why would you think that?" I asked, after she didn't speak again for a moment. There is nothing I can do in times like these but humour her.

"Because the leaves would move as if they were alive. My relatives had to be making those leaves move to tell me they were alright. Had to be guiding the wind." I looked down on her face to see her eyes were focusing in on something across the clearing. I tuned my head to follow her gaze only to discover the wind playing with the leaves.

As I stared at them I realized that she had a point. It was as if there was someone moving about in the leaves, or many someones. Perhaps, perhaps those who had thought to put all these lost souls together had had a decent idea. Perhaps the cold weather, this time of the year, makes them come out. Perhaps the fallen leaves are what they like to play in, to experience the world one more time before they go back to where ever the dead go when it is their time.

It's an almost comforting thought to think that there is happiness somewhere on this planet.

_I think that ghosts like  
The cooler weather  
When leaves turn colour  
They get together_

"Do you think that they are happy now, where ever they are?" she asked me, her eyes turning away from the seemingly possessed leaves and looking up at me. I stared down in to them and smiled slightly, ever so slightly.

"Yes, I think they would have to be," I replied. "How could it be fair if they had to suffer after all they gave up for us, for our world?"

"But the world isn't a fair place, Draco," she whispered, her eyes turning away once more. "We both know that."

"Yes, we do," I replied, reaching out and catching at her chin. Gently, I guided it back towards me. "But I refuse to believe that everywhere things are unfair. I refuse to believe that in the next world things are not fair. There has to be a balance, you can't have unfairness everywhere. There has to be something to counter it. I think that they have to be in that place."

She was silent for a moment, and I was silent as well. I believed what I had said, but I had never actually truly considered it before. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps where the dead now walked is a place where everything is opposite of this world. Maybe in their world there is more peace and benevolence than war and hate. Maybe things actually work out for the heroes. God knows things didn't for the ones that lived on this world.

_And walk along  
These old back roads  
Where no one lives  
And no one goes_

I saw the great hero of our time die. Saw him fall from the sky as the raven had, plummeting until the ground greeted him. Saw him lay there, only the shell of what was once the Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore had not been there to slow his fall that time. Dumbledore had been long dead.

It was Harry Potter that saved us all, just as the prophecy had predicted. Only he or Voldemort could live and he made sure that it was he who came out on top. They fought on top of the Astronomy tower, battling and duelling to see if the victor would be the one to save the world or the one to destroy it.

Of course Perfect Potter won. I had never had a doubt about this, though I would say otherwise, which was why I sided with him when the time came instead of those who opposed him. He won and as was prophesised he lived and Voldemort died, never to return to our world. The prophecy did not predict everything though. It did not predict that my father would be the one to kill the Boy Who Lived And Saved The World. That Potter would survive, but would not live long enough to truly relish his victory.

I saw the flash of green that killed the Boy Who Lived, saw the flash that caused him to fall backwards and drop to the ground bellow. Saw the death of the hero that had saved us all.

I made sure that my father never left the Hogwarts grounds alive.

_With all their hopes set  
On the railway  
That never came  
So no one stayed_

"Draco, I don't want to be alone anymore," Ginny said in a voice that was hollow. Yet it called out to me, pleading to me to make everything better once more. Her hands fisted into my cloak, pulling at me.

I stared down at her, taking in her red hair that was tumbling about her shoulders. I had hated that hair for the majority of my life. Taking in her freckles that were all across her face and body. I had counted them once. Every single one. I had hated those freckles as well. But no longer. This was the only person that had ever truly cared for me, showed compassion towards me. The only person whom I had ever loved.

"And you never will be," I assured her, crushing her to me. "You never will be. I will make sure of it."__

_I guess that autumn  
Gets__ you remembering  
And the smallest things  
Just make you cry_

_Autumn's here._

The End.

--o--

A/N: I am not going to say much about this now that I am done. I really want to paint a picture for it though because I have this haunting image in my mind, so I just might have to do that. All I am really going to do is say that you should download this song because it is beautiful and I truly haven't done it any justice. As well, I would really appreciate it if you told me what you thought.


End file.
